Funny Things

A day in the life

Today is gone. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.” Dr. Seuss, One Fish, Two Fish

My daughter’s day ends with Dr. Seuss. Her father is the one reveling in a magical life. The real driving stories for me are those of Jesus. A year and a half ago arrived a pivot point in my life. For reasons beyond my control I was without a church, and concurrently God was speaking as I saw Jesus in new ways. His life was a prescription for mine. Dine with sinners and tax collectors. Bless the poor. Lose your life. With a few friends we began doing life without a church, reading Jesus’ stories that fueled our activities entirely outside of a church building. It became abundantly clear that Jesus was alive in motion. We began seeing church not as a destination but a movement. Today was indicative of where the pivot point has brought me, a year-plus later.

Thursdays are now epic days. You could read through this blog and find a dozen or more reflections written on Thursday night. Those entries, mostly about the rec center, are filled with what Seuss refers to as “funny things” – funny for lack of a better word. He might have meant noteworthy. Sublime. Ironic. The carnivalesque side of life is the side in which we live to the full. If we intentionally put ourselves into situations with strangers, real people doing real things – walking for groceries, sitting in the park under a shade tree, sitting in a cafe – and then string them together as we walk along a busy urban street … we are part not of a Seuss-like stroll through fantasy land but a Jesus-like journey through our one and only real life. And what would be better than living life like God incarnate. He chose to live a life strolling through the village, rubbing up against people of all backgrounds, engaging in conversations of the most meaningful nature.

In following a funny impulse over a year and a half I have unwittingly stumbled upon a holy grail of sorts. I never realized what might happen if I began hanging around a mid-city rec center on a regular basis. It’s in the hub of a well-traveled corridor for pedestrians, buses, bikers, cars, rich, poor, homeless, yuppie, you name it. These are my Thursday evenings. Over the past few weeks the landscape has grown even more colorful with the addition of a homeless walk in the morning – although it has evolved into something unpredictable, much more than a quest to find homeless people in need, rather a journey looking for anyone to strike a conversation with. Sure I am looking for people in need but then who am I really to discern need. I recognize more and more my own neediness, realizing an experience with a person who sleeps on the dirt is a blessing to me, like water to my thirsty soul. So now my Thursdays are bookended by a voyage through Normal Heights in the morning and an evening at the rec center.

My point is this: I used to think a life with Jesus revolved around singing hymns, studying the Bible, praying and hoping the people I cared about would get it. And then in studying that Bible I found that Jesus’ life was one of … walking. He moved around among the people and had conversation after conversation. And so my Thursday morning began at a park on one end of Normal Heights and progressed westward, a Seuss-like parade. After a journey homeward I returned at night for the rec center but found the real activity outside among the adults who happened to be along the street.

As you talk to people you find that each of them has a story. And whether they are deemed needy people, successful or whatever, their’s are stories worth hearing, and stories Jesus is listening to. I’m saying that this way of being a Christian leaves me intensely more connected to Jesus Christ than ever before. And I think being a church looks like this. Maybe it’s not for everyone, maybe he’s not calling you into this way. But we have come to call this an apostolic way, a way of the sent ones, people sent by God out into the world on a mission, salting our conversations with purpose, bringing the kingdom of God into the kingdom of the world, rounding up the called ones and building a community of faith, hope and love.

Regardless the outcome I am just thankful for my Thursdays.

Everyday from here to there. Funny things are everywhere.”

Afterward

I wasn’t even going to post this tonight. It would have been one of those in the scrap heap, the hidden archive of WordPress drafts.

And then I went over to Facebook to see what had happened to my friend Bub today. He was supposed to meet me at the park at 10 a.m. to do the above with me. Turns out he was not only without a car (hence no drive to the park) but also without a phone (hence no call). But all the while as I lived out my parade of funny things he was writing a song that couldn’t be more of a soundtrack for it. And here it is.